No Ordinary Class
by James018
Summary: The Hogwarts first year class of 1991. Some of them are familiar, some not so much, but all have their own life to live and a journey to take. "Of one thing the Sorting Hat was certain: these new students would be no ordinary class."
1. Prologue

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

This story is based on an idea I've had for a long time now, though I only decided to write in a couple of weeks ago. Given how many fanfics there are out there who make use of characters that are at best underdeveloped, I some time ago wrote a summary of all characters in Harry's year, for use in a fan fiction that ultimately failed to eventuate. This summary gave full names, Hogwarts houses, genders, blood statuses and places of residence for each character, as well as my idea of their appearance, character and their role in said fanfic (the last of which obviously isn't needed now). When writing this I heavily relied on JKR's infamous class list, treating it as canon with the exception of a few things that were inconsistent with the books (the books winning out, obviously). I also shamelessly plagiarized from an old article I read somewhere in which the author analysed each character in great detail – I basically used the results of that analysis and then filled in any gaps. If anyone could find that article and tell me where it is, I'm happy to reference it.

In any case, I found that old character list just a little while ago and (after updating it a bit) thought I might as well do something with it, and this is the result. Basically, this story will consist of this prologue and forty chapters, one for each student. I don't intend to take it any further, but I will probably use it as a reference for any fanfics I write in the future, and if anyone wants to do the same, they are free to do so, though I'd appreciate being credited in some way.

**No Ordinary Class**

**Prologue**

Silently, forty nervous eleven-year-olds came through the double doors into the Great Hall, walking in single file. Watched equally as silently by the older students who themselves remembered having been in their place not so long ago; the only sounds heard were those of shoes clattering against the hard stone floor, and the occasional gasps as the new students noticed, for the first time, the ceiling that didn't look like a ceiling at all, but rather resembled the sky outside. One of them, a girl with large front teeth and bushy brown hair, whispered that the ceiling was bewitched and that she had read about it in _Hogwarts, a History_. Her voice carried unnaturally well in the relative silence.

As the first year students-to-be settled in a line in front of the entire school, the grey-haired, stern-looking witch who had led them into the Hall placed an old, frayed wizard's hat on a four-legged stool in front of them. But this was not just any old hat, even by wizarding standards. This was a hat which had belonged, a thousand years ago, to Godric Gryffindor, one of the founders of the school. This was the hat that the four Founders, in their old age, had enchanted to see into the minds of all new students, and decide which of the four Hogwarts houses would be their own: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin.

The Sorting Hat was only semi-sentient. It understood emotions, moods and feelings, but did not feel them itself. This made it a perfect, impartial judge of character – exactly as the Founders had intended. What they hadn't intended or, perhaps, even been aware of was that the Hat, as a result of the enchantments on it, was very sensitive to magic. And a thousand years, most of it spent in the most magical place in Britain, in an office that had been occupied by some of the most powerfully magical and influential wizards and witches in history, had only strengthened that sensitivity.

So it was that before the first-year students even entered the Hall, the Sorting Hat could sense the magic, the potential within these children. What was more, the Hat knew, years prior to the event occurring, that another war was coming, possibly worse than the one that had ended not a decade previously. The same darkness that had very nearly taken over then was stirring again, within the walls of the castle itself, and was slowly but surely growing stronger. And if there was a war coming, then these new students, the Hat was certain, would bear the brunt of it. It would be their resistance that would determine the outcome. Whether it would be sufficient to keep the darkness at bay or not, nobody could predict.

Of one thing the Sorting Hat was certain: these new students would be no ordinary class.

After a few seconds of silence in which everyone stared at the Hat, it broke into song, much as it had done every year for the past thousand years, a song that it had spent much of the previous year composing.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
__But don't judge on what you see,  
__I'll eat myself if you can find  
__A smarter hat than me.  
__You can keep your bowlers black,  
__Your top hats sleek and tall,  
__For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
__And I can cap them all.  
__There's nothing hidden in your head  
__The Sorting Hat can't see,  
__So try me on and I will tell you  
__Where you ought to be.  
__You might belong in Gryffindor,  
__Where dwell the brave at heart,  
__Their daring, nerve and chivalry  
__Set Gryffindors apart;  
__You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
__Where they are just and loyal,  
__Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
__And unafraid of toil;  
__Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
__If you've a ready mind,  
__Where those of wit and learning,  
__Will always find their kind;  
__Or perhaps in Slytherin  
__You'll make your real friends,  
__Those cunning folk use any means  
__To achieve their ends.  
__So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
__And don't get in a flap!  
__You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
__For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Upon finishing the song the Hat bowed to each of the four tables as its composition was rewarded with thunderous applause. The first years were talking amongst themselves, many appearing relieved that the method of Sorting them was less difficult than they had thought. As the grey-haired witch stepped forward with a long roll of parchment, however, the Great Hall fell silent once more. She instructed the first years to, when their name was called, put on the Sorting Hat and wait on the stool until they were Sorted; then, looking down, she read out the first name on the parchment.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A/N: Please review.


	2. Hannah Abbott

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books. Thanks who those who reviewed, put me on story/author alert, etc. It means a lot to me. Thanks in particular to for pointing out the article I was thinking of, an essay titled "Secrets of the Classlist" that can be found on the Harry Potter Lexicon. As I remember it's an excellent read, though make sure you've got plenty of time on your hands, as it's bloody long!

**No Ordinary Class**

**Hannah Abbott**

"Abbott, Hannah!"

Hannah Abbott was a petite girl with blonde pigtails, and at this particular moment her face was flushed with fear and nervousness. Perhaps she shouldn't have been so frightened, given she was a pureblood who had known the wizarding world all her life, and had had eleven years to get used to the idea of coming to Hogwarts. Then again, Hannah had always been a quiet girl, a bit lacking in confidence. After all, living in the very same village in which Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort would tend to give you a bit of an inferiority complex.

The Abbotts had not lived in Godric's Hollow for long on that fateful night – ironically, they had probably moved there about the same time as James and Lily Potter, though of course, no one was really too sure when the Potters had moved there; the Fidelius Charm had seen to that. Whatever the case, Daniel and Mary Abbott had been among the first on the scene when the massive explosion had rocked the entire town – though they had been too late to catch a sight of their saviour. In hindsight, the Abbotts reasoned, Dumbledore must have found out what had happened and spirited young Harry away to a safe place, far from any aggrieved Death Eaters. After all, who knew the extent of what the man could do?

Of course, little Hannah was safely asleep at home and knew none of this, and even to this day, all she knew of Harry Potter was that he, a mere one-year-old, had somehow saved them all from the evil Dark Wizard, so evil that to utter his very name was a taboo. She knew he would be in her year, and idly she'd fantasized about meeting him, of them becoming friends… but any thought of Harry Potter was driven forcefully out of her mind by the sound of her own name being spoken by the stern-looking professor.

So she stumbled forth, a thousand possibilities running through her mind. What would the Hat do? How long would it take to Sort her? She had been told it took only an instant for some, but could take minutes for others. And where would she be put? At the moment she didn't feel brave, or smart, or any of what the Hat had said. Merlin forbid, would she be put in Slytherin? Or worse, would it just refuse to Sort her, because she didn't belong in any of the houses? She shuddered from head to foot at the thought.

The Sorting Hat slipped over her eyes as she sat down on the stool, and she heard a soft, low voice talk into her ear.

"Ah, the first student of the year. Let's see… I see loyalty, plenty of it… a good heart, though you perhaps lack the courage to express it as you perhaps should…"

Hannah shivered again.

"There's enough in your mind for Ravenclaw, but there really is no question where you belong. A word of advice: make some friends and learn to speak for what you believe. Welcome to HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hannah, relieved, almost ran to the Hufflepuff table, being sure to save a seat next to her. Her eyes sought out those of her best friend, who she knew was next in line… and sure enough…

"Bones, Susan!"

A/N: Please review, any and all feedback is appreciated.


	3. Susan Bones

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

**No Ordinary Class**

**Susan Bones**

"Bones, Susan!"

_Don't panic, keep your dignity,_ Susan Bones told herself as she walked quickly, nervously to the stool on which the Sorting Hat stood, her long red hair cascading behind her. After all, she was a Bones, and they were among the most well-known and influential families in wizarding Britain, and it just wouldn't do for their daughter to embarrass the family in front of what was the future of the wizarding world.

Bob Bones had created enough waves in pureblood circles by marrying a Muggle, Helen Johnson (no relation to the Johnsons of Quidditch fame). It had been this, along with Edgar Bones' affiliation with Albus Dumbledore, that had drawn the Bones family into the conflict with Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The results were catastrophic for the family; Edgar and his wife and children were brutally murdered the day before their firstborn, Michael, would have started his first year at Hogwarts, and the Death Eaters made no secret of their intentions for the rest of the family. The Boneses owed a lot to Harry Potter for defeating Lord Voldemort when he did.

The result of all this was that Susan was very highly treasured by her family. The Boneses were a matriarchal family, and Susan was the last and only heir of the family. Helen Bones had contracted a disease shortly after Susan's birth that made her barren, and Amelia – the eldest of the three siblings – was unmarried, and getting on in years. The future and dignity of the family depended on Susan, something that she was already aware of, and she was determined not to let her family down.

So she found herself sitting, motionless, on the stool, while the Hat Sorted her. "Ah yes, a Bones… you are much like your aunt. Fair, loyal, noble, brave, quick-witted… all values in your blood, no doubt instilled by your family… you would do well in most houses. However…

"Like your friend, Ms. Abbott, there is just one place for you. So, like her, I will advise you to make friends and stand for what is right in HUFFLEPUFF!"

_Yes!_ thought Susan, allowing herself a broad smile as she headed for the cheering Hufflepuff table. She seated herself next to Hannah and they started conversing quietly as the Sorting continued.

"Boot, Terry!"

A/N: Thanks to those who have reviewed. Please keep doing so, even if you already have. Even a quick sentence is enough to brighten up any author's day.


	4. Terry Boot

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

**No Ordinary Class**

**Terry Boot**

"Boot, Terry!"

Terry Boot had been waiting tensely, having noticed quickly that the names were called in alphabetical order, and so it was just a matter of time before his was called. Still, the sound of his name being spoken by the tall, authoritative witch, Professor McGonagall, gave him a small fright and made him jump. The Professor seemed a stern, no-nonsense sort from Terry's experiences with her so far; fervently, he hoped she was fair in class.

He had not at first believed the letter that had been sent to him stating dryly that he was a wizard and would be attending wizard school. Thankfully, that very day Professor McGonagall had shown up on his family's doorstep and proven beyond doubt that magic did indeed exist he was a wizard. She had informed him matter-of-factly that a surprisingly large number – about a quarter – of wizards and witches were born into non-magical families (he didn't much care for the term Muggle-born), and that his reaction of disbelief was not uncommon among such students. This was the case, he had discovered, with the two students he had met on the train – one of them a girl with a funny foreign-sounding name that he was pretty sure started with a 'H', the other a boy called Kevin, who even now stood next to him in line, and to whom he gave a weak grin as he walked to the stool that held the old, frayed Hat that was supposed to decide in which House he would reside for the next seven years.

As he put on the Hat and sat down on the stool, Terry's mind was furiously debating in which House the Hat would put him. He was smart and he knew it, so he figured Ravenclaw was most likely. However, he also knew his middle-class parents had done their best to bring him up in a manner that valued justice, fairness and hard work – those were all traits that sounded like that other house, Hufflepuff (whoever had come up with that name). He really didn't know…

He heard a small but clear chuckle in his ear and almost fell off the stool in fright.

"Well thankfully it's not your job to Sort yourself, it's mine. So why don't we get on with it?"

Terry blanched immediately – could the Hat read minds? Had it heard what he had been thinking all the time?

"Don't worry – were Helga still alive, I'm certain she'd have forgiven you for your slight on her surname," chuckled the Sorting Hat. "But yes, to Sorting – your monologue covered most of it, don't you think? Yes, you would do well in Hufflepuff, but with a mind like yours there really is just one place I can Sort you. Good luck in RAVENCLAW!"

Terry grinned broadly and set off for the second table to the left, which was applauding and cheering loudly. As he reached it a number of older students stood up to introduce themselves and shake hands with him; happily, he thought he would fit in well here. Terry chose to sit in a gap in the table large enough for two people, leaving enough room beside him for Kevin to sit, should he be Sorted into Ravenclaw. Terry could tell he was the nervous sort, and it would be good for him to have at least one friend here in Hogwarts.

And the Sorting continued.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, please keep them coming.


	5. Mandy Brocklehurst

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

**No Ordinary Class**

**Mandy Brocklehurst**

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

Upon hearing her name called, a small girl with long, dark hair broke off her conversation with one of a pair of dark-skinned twins. The daughter of a half-blood wizard and a Muggle woman, Mandy had had the benefit of being brought up in both the magical and non-magical worlds, and so had a real appreciation of just how special she was to have magic. Needless to say, she had been looking forward to coming to Hogwarts all her life.

That wasn't to say she didn't know that it would not all be a rose garden. With only one magical grandparent, she was only slightly above Muggle-born status in the eyes of some purebloods, and her father – who himself had gone through the same thing – had impressed on her quite firmly how important it was to make good connections and to be her own person whilst being careful not to annoy the wrong people. Perhaps what stuck in her mind most of all was when he said she would have to make some pretty big decisions "at an age where no person should have to make them". Mandy, for her part, actually somewhat looked forward to the challenge – it was just the way she was – but deep down she knew that her father was deadly serious, and hoped desperately that when the time came, she wouldn't mess up too badly.

And so she sat on the stool and calmly placed the Sorting Hat on her head, letting it drop over her eyes. Immediately she heard a voice in her ear.

"Hmm… difficult, not an easy choice at all… you are mature for your age, certainly an able mind… I sense courage and potential for leadership in you, and also a healthy dose of ambition… the founders would be fighting over you, that's for sure…"

Mandy waited patiently, and after a few seconds the Hat spoke again.

"Right then… yes, I think I have the place for you. Godric would have put up a good fight, I'm certain, but I think Rowena would have had her way in the end, as indeed she often did. Well, Ms. Brocklehurst, good luck in RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table exploded with cheers again as Mandy joined them. There she sat, watching carefully as the Sorting continued.

"Brown, Lavender!"

A/N: Please review.


	6. Lavender Brown

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

**No Ordinary Class**

**Lavender Brown**

"Brown, Lavender!"

Lavender ruthlessly suppressed a squeak as her name was called. _Why_ did there have to be so many people with last names starting with 'A' or 'B'? She had steeled herself to be the first or at most the second name to be called, but there had been a good four or five people before her, and the extra wait had, she admitted to herself, made her very nervous. _Get a grip,_ she told herself as she walked forth.

Lavender was a pureblood and had grown up perfectly aware that she would come to Hogwarts. At the present time she really pitied the Muggleborns who hadn't grown up knowing about magic and knew that they'd be a thousand times more nervous than she. Though she suspected they must be superhuman or something, because how _could_ you live not knowing about magic? Once in a while her dad would go into town and bring back stories of how Muggles managed to adapt without magic, and she was blown away by how dangerous and complicated it was. Big metal broomsticks that rolled on wheels on the ground and were really hard to control and if you crashed it could kill you! Really, how did they _survive? _But the rational part in her argued that it was just the way they lived, and the magical world would probably be as incredibly mysterious to Muggles and Muggleborns as the Muggle world was to her.

Then again, now she was here, even _she_ felt quite overawed by the castle. But she was no little girl, and she certainly wasn't going to act like one. Shyness got you nowhere, after all. No, she would boldly walk up to the Sorting Hat and put it on. She felt relieved that that was all she needed to do to be Sorted – she'd heard someone saying in the antechamber that they would have to fight a troll. Imagine that! Though she did not exactly relish the idea of putting on the old Hat, either. After all, it was so _dirty!_ It would ruin her hair! And in front of all of these people! She supposed that all of the first years had to do it, but she had blonde hair and so people would notice if it was dirty. She shuddered, but willed herself to put the Hat on.

"Well, well…" said a voice in her ear, "courage and brash boldness… a love for the spotlight… yes, I see… there really is only one place for you. GRYFFINDOR!"

Lavender was momentarily surprised by the speed of her Sorting – the others before her had seemed to take much longer – but her attention was diverted by the raucous cheers from the table by the wall on the far left. She seated herself at the table, not before noticing a pair of redheaded twins catcalling at her. _I could grow to like this place,_ she thought to herself with a smile.

And the Sorting continued.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

A/N: I'm noticing I'm getting a lot of hits, but very few reviews – I didn't get any for the last chapter, I know it wasn't my best work but didn't think it was too horrible. Even a couple of words, like "Really good, keep it up!" (or otherwise) would really give my spirits a boost and would only take less than a minute of your time. So please, please review!

I'd particularly like to know what you thought of my depiction of Lavender – she's the first character so far that we see a fair amount of in canon. I was going for a bit self-centred, vain and overdramatic, though deep down she's reasonably intelligent and her heart is in the right place. I should also say that though I've got a fair idea of what I want for each character, new ideas are really appreciated. So if you've got any ideas about a particular character I haven't done yet, please review or PM me.


	7. Millicent Bulstrode

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

**No Ordinary Class**

**Millicent Bulstrode**

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

Millicent heard her name called and walked confidently, almost strutted, up to the stool. For a second, before putting on the Sorting Hat, she let her eyes roam over the rest of her yearmates. She hadn't had a chance to get a really good look at all of them before now, and she wanted to get a good idea of the sorts of people she would have to put up with for seven years.

Near the middle of the line she saw the typical platinum blonde hair and arrogant, self-important posture that was a sure sign of the Malfoys, and figured this must be Draco. She also spotted a few other traits she recognised – a red-haired boy with shabby robes, surely a Weasley; a pair of twin Indian girls that must be from the Patil family; and a brunette with vivid blue eyes that gave her away as a Macdougal. She searched up and down for Harry Potter, who she was certain would be very obvious by his Malfoy-like conceit and self-importance – he was the Boy Who Lived after all – but could not find any likely candidates. She mentally shrugged; she would see him later in the Sorting, then.

She saw a pug-nosed girl who she recognised as Pansy Parkinson. Millicent snarled inwardly, though she let none of this show on her face; Pansy was a good-for-nothing moron, content to follow whoever had the most power while possessing none of it herself, and yet by virtue of her family she would automatically assume leadership of all of the Slytherin girls in their year, the house where both of them were destined. It was _so _unfair. Not to mention Pansy would no doubt look down on her and never miss an opportunity to remind her of her filthy _half-blood_ mother. The very thought made her blood boil.

She put on the Hat and immediately heard its monologue in her ear. "Hmm, an interesting one. Intelligence, lots of it… plenty of ambition, and such cunning, content to sit back and watch until the time is right…"

_Just hurry up and put me in Slytherin, where I belong,_ thought Millicent boredly.

The Hat chuckled. "Impatient, I see… but yes, there is indeed only one place where you belong, and I have no doubt you'll go far in SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table burst into raucous applause as Millicent joined them. _And so it begins, _she mused as she sat next to an older student and struck up a conversation.

"Corner, Michael!"

A/N: Enjoyed writing this a lot, even if it's a tad short. I know I've demonized Millicent a bit, but that won't be the case for all of the Slytherins – in fact I'm probably looking forward to writing the Slytherins most of all.

Please review! Any comments/feedback/ideas/etc are appreciated!


	8. Michael Corner

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

**No Ordinary Class**

**Michael Corner**

"Corner, Michael!"

Michael stepped forward almost before Professor McGonagall finished stating his name, so nervous was he. After all, he had to put the Hat on in front of the whole school! It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but he wished they could do the Sorting privately instead of in front of hundreds of students. At least he didn't have to speak. He had a very bad habit of stuttering when he got nervous.

Michael was a half-blood, the only son of a Muggle-born wizard and a pureblood witch. He had grown up primarily in the wizarding world but knew enough about Muggles to get by. Really, by any measure he was as ordinary an eleven-year-old boy as you could get, as far as wizards went, anyway. He was a bit shy, but outgoing enough to satisfy his parents; the Longbottoms and the Turpins lived nearby, so he wasn't short of playmates. He'd also met a few other boys on the train – their names, as best as he could remember, were Anthony, Terry and Kevin. He'd seen Terry get Sorted into Ravenclaw and thought he'd probably like it best in that house, though he would accept the Hat's decision no matter how it came out.

Perhaps the only other thing to note about Michael Corner was that he had already started noticing girls. Personally, Michael was nothing short of terrified. He was _eleven_ – surely that was way too early for a guy to start having these feelings? He knew girls started to feel _that_ way earlier than boys did, and yet he didn't think many girls his age had began noticing _him_ yet. It was just so weird and to no small extent frightening – and it wasn't as if he needed his stutter to get any worse, either.

In the present, though, Michael wasn't thinking about girls at all; he was nervous for a very different reason. So he sat on the stool and let the Sorting Hat drop over his eyes –

Darkness. Then a small voice in his ear: "Well, let's see… a good mind, plenty of talent… also plenty of loyalty to your friends… a good heart… hmm… a difficult one… Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw?"

Michael didn't know if the Hat was asking itself or him. _Well, Terry's in Ravenclaw, so I guess I might like to be with someone I know,_ he thought cautiously.

To his surprise, the Sorting Hat accepted his request without argument. "Very well, then. It shall be RAVENCLAW!"

Michael took a split second to ponder the irony of avoiding Hufflepuff, the house of loyalty, due to his loyalty to his Ravenclaw friend, before heading off to his new table, which had burst into applause yet again. He sat down near Terry Boot, who was saving a seat – perhaps, hopefully, for Anthony or Kevin.

And the Sorting continued.

"Cornfoot, Stephen!"

A/N: Had a bit of trouble writing this one, didn't have too many ideas for Michael. Hope it was okay. Fantastic to see the response to the last couple of chapters, please keep reviewing!


	9. Stephen Cornfoot

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

**No Ordinary Class**

**Stephen Cornfoot**

"Cornfoot, Stephen!"

This time it was a small boy with dark hair who stepped forward. He wasn't particularly remarkable by appearance, and most of the occupants of the Great Hall gave nothing more than a quick glance at him before continuing their conversations. It was only some of the purebloods who showed some interest in this boy – those who knew of the Cornfoot family, who were well known for the fact that _nobody_ knew them. Their distantness and distaste for magical society was legendary, and many were keen to see if their son turned out the same.

Those who were observing Stephen Cornfoot would perceive him as cautious and guarded, but also dignified and self-confident by the manner in which he walked. For his part, Stephen looked around the Hall idly with mild interest. He hadn't seen so many people in one place before – in fact, he wasn't sure he'd seen so many people in his life. He and his parents didn't go out any more than necessary, and that suited him fine; he wasn't exactly a social sort of person to begin with. But he had to admit to himself a fair bit of curiosity about the outside world, what other people were like.

Looking at the Sorting Hat for a brief moment prior to putting it on, he realized that although he knew about all four houses – what pureblood wizard didn't? – he hadn't really considered what house he'd be in. He didn't really fancy Gryffindor or Slytherin, they were far too passionate about "the cause", or in other words, fighting each other. Ravenclaw would be alright, or Hufflepuff. That would allow him to just be normal without having to worry about the political side of life.

He put the Hat on, idly wondering what to expect. Then he heard a small, dry voice in his ear.

"Ah, a Cornfoot. You seem to all be very like in mind… intelligence, work ethic… cynicism, perhaps a bit more than is healthy… not an easy Sorting, but I think I know where you will do best. Good luck and find your true friends in HUFFLEPUFF!"

Stephen was momentarily surprised; he probably would have expected Ravenclaw over Hufflepuff, as his parents were in that house and he felt he took after them. But he shrugged and set off to the applauding Hufflepuff table. It wasn't as if he disliked the house – better there than Gryffindor or Slytherin.

And perhaps he would take the Sorting Hat's advice and try to make some friends. It was usually right, after all.

"Crabbe, Vincent!"

A/N: I'm back, sorry for the wait! Have been busy and then just didn't have the inspiration for this for a while. Please review!


	10. Vincent Crabbe

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

**No Ordinary Class**

**Vincent Crabbe**

"Crabbe, Vincent!"

Vincent Crabbe lumbered forth, leaving Malfoy and Goyle, on Malfoy's other side, behind him. Idly he realised that this was probably the last time for quite a while that he'd be singled out. It was the job of the Crabbes, so he had been taught, to follow whomever had the power to rid the world of filth – Muggles and Mudbloods – and to aid them however possible, so that they would be rewarded for their faith. It was the best way to ensure their future and standing in the new world to come.

Crabbe – he might as well starting thinking of himself by his surname, as he'd be called by it for the next nine months – had immediately recognised that that power was Draco Malfoy. His father, after all, was Lucius, who already had the ear of the new Minister for Magic, Fudge. If only the Dark Lord were still alive – his eyes sought out Harry Potter at the thought and he glared hatefully at the scrawny, bespectacled boy. If it hadn't been for Potter, the Dark Lord would no doubt be killing Mudbloods at this very moment. Perhaps he would have already triumphed by now. But no, Potter had destroyed him, and the purebloods, the _real_ wizards, had lost the battle. Not the war, though. They would rise again, and Crabbe could see Malfoy at the centre of the revolution, and he, Crabbe, the loyal servant, would be at his right hand.

Crabbe sat stoically on the stool, which groaned beneath his weight, and put on the pointed Sorting Hat. He immediately heard a voice in his ear, and realised it must be the Hat.

"Ah, yes… I see it immediately, great ambition and desire for glory, even if you are willing to let others do the work… and, yes, your… extreme views… there is one and only one House that fits you. SLYTHERIN!"

Crabbe grinned as the Hat placed him in the House in which he knew he belonged. He sat at the cheering Slytherin table, leaving enough space to his left for Malfoy and Goyle to sit, for of course, they would be put in Slytherin too. There was no question about it.

And the Sorting continued.

"Davies, Tracey!"

A/N: A bit short, but I felt I'd probably said all I could about Crabbe. He isn't that deep a character, at this point anyway.

Just wanted to head off something before it started: Tracey's name. I'm aware that the classlist states that her surname is "Davis". The error is deliberate and for a reason (kudos if you can guess what it is). Call it artistic license if you want, though if you want to be pedantic, the name is not even mentioned in the books and is therefore non-canon.

Please review. Your thoughts and/or encouragement are very much appreciated.


	11. Tracey Davies

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

**No Ordinary Class**

**Tracey Davies**

"Davies, Tracey!"

_Please not Ravenclaw,_ thought Tracey Davies for what seemed like the millionth time as she heard her name called out. Nervously, the tall, freckled brunette began the long walk from the far end of the line to the stool on which the Sorting Hat sat.

It wasn't as if she hated the House, she reasoned to herself, or her family who had been Ravenclaws almost without exception for generations. What she hated was the expectations on her, the pressure of living up to the standards set by her grandparents, father and older brother Roger, who was already Quidditch captain in his third year and was the early favourite for Head Boy in his year. The idea of having to follow in their footsteps was infuriating – Quidditch fame and Outstanding NEWTs, when there were so many more worthwhile things to aspire to! She yearned for the opportunity to do something _different_, something her family hadn't done before – and not getting Sorted into Ravenclaw seemed like a good start.

The more she thought about it, the more Tracey felt that the house that best suited her was Slytherin. After all, they were the house of the ambitious, and not _all_ ambition was evil, was it? The main problem with that idea was that she was a half-blood; her father had fallen in love with a Muggle woman and their relationship had managed to bear fruit despite the fact that they lived in different worlds. Tracey did not resent her mother at all; if anything, Andrea Davies was everything you wanted in a mother – kind, loving and supportive. But she could not help but wonder just how much her parentage would cost her in the wizarding world, especially if she wound up in Slytherin.

In the midst of all this she found herself on the stool as the Sorting Hat perused her mind. "Hmm… difficult, difficult… plenty of courage and heart, a solid but open mind, and a great desire to prove yourself to the world. You'd do well in any house… hmm…"

_Please not Ravenclaw,_ Tracey repeated mentally, _please not Ravenclaw…_

"Not Ravenclaw… you would do well in there, like your family before you… but very well, then. Very well… ahh… I have the place for you. Good luck, Miss Davies… SLYTHERIN!"

As Tracey walked to the applauding Slytherin table, she briefly considered her decision – what had she gotten herself into? She resolved not to dwell on the past; after all, what was done was done, and there was no changing it. She would do the best she could from here on. _How bad could it be, anyway?_

The thought sent a chill down her spine, and Tracey shivered.

"Entwhistle, Kevin!"

A/N: Sorry it's been a while. I'll work on this when I can but I've been pretty busy recently, and will be for the next month or so. Please leave a review, they really mean a lot.


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